


This Life

by Ladiladida



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Romance, Smut, non sickening domesticity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-14 11:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16911690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladiladida/pseuds/Ladiladida
Summary: It had started, he supposed with the rug... or had it begun earlier? Whatever it was, Strike had come to a decision.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, good morning/evening, I hope you’re all well. This is a gamble, it could turn out bad... we’ll see.
> 
> This is established Robin/Strike and it’s developments... you’ll see what I mean. I wanted a challenge of writing domesticity without giving characters a personality transplant... I’m interested in your thoughts. There will be smut, drama and humour I hope... again... I’ll do my best. Feedback has been so lovely in my other works and as always it is appreciated.

It had started, he supposed with the rug. They’d bought it during a trip up to Kidderminster whilst tailing a suspect. Strike had left it to Robin of course, he was fine to have the rug, just less inclined to choose. Nearly five weeks later, he’d come home to find her power washing the decking. Popping upstairs, he’d showered to get the feeling of a fourteen hour day off him. He was exhausted, his knee twinging a little and his stomach grumbling. But when he descended, she seemed to be near him all in a rush, reaching up and putting her arms about his neck and pulling his lips to hers with hungry impatience. 

He didn’t care that her hands moved into his damp hair, tousling it everywhere. He also cared little for how tired he was, such a delicious ambush had made him quite forget everything else. Of late, there’d been a lot going on about them and between them and with life and cases they’d almost become ships in the night. Robin’s actions were insistent and demanding, she was showing him how much she’d been missing him and if he was honest, he’d been mad to have her properly in his arms for over a week now. She could be quite forthright in this regard when she wanted to be.

When she sunk to her knees, her hands and lips working him towards that spiralling euphoric descent, his fragments of care dropped away. But Robin was brimmed with lustful need, her actions devotedly loving as always but designed to have him as impatient for her. Strike always felt that about her, every advancing year seemed to make it more acute in new ways to him. But Robin, naked above him or underneath him, writhing, crying his name and shattering apart with him, took some beating.

The lava like shots of pleasure firing through him were becoming intensely acute and as though pre empting him she stopped, rising only to kiss him hard and pull him onto the steel grey fleece rug. What followed was a tangle of limbs and bodies as clothes were pulled off one another, their burgeoning impatience rising. But before he would give Robin exactly what she needed at that moment, his hand teased between her legs as his mouth sucked and licked her breasts. This was a combination that had Robin often verging in coming by that alone and when her back arched desperately into his touch, he smiled against her skin. 

Her hand stilled his, pulling it away and her fingers moved to grip his hips, silently asking him to do what she so urgently desired. Her eyes were dark as he looked at her, it was a look that was so primal but so relevant only to him that it made him feel like he belonged. As he moved in her, deep and even, she sighed, her body wrapping and locking herself to him, arching and needing. Robin always said that he could read what she needed from him, from her looks now, she wanted that passionate primal love making that would remind them both how alive they were for each other. Still starting steady, he soon positioned himself so that he could increase the speed of his hips, driving deep into her as she loved him to do. When Robin trusted him, loved him completely, this was the side she showed, free and unashamed. Not daring to hide her desire and wantoness for him, her utter love of being with him. 

Robin’s back arched, her hands continued to urge his hips, his name and other words spilling from her lips that drove him on. She was virtually sobbing his name with pleasure now, he could feel her nails nipping at the flesh they held. The base pleasure flooded him like electric but the feel of her all around him, her utter want of him and he her, Strike felt alive. Hips meeting, bodies moving against each other glistening from the heat between them, it was home.

They fell together of course, his hips driving her to ecstasy and his own barriers breaking. Robin grabbed him at the last moment, crushing her lips to hers and he felt her cry of utter bliss muffled against him. Her body tensed and spasms as it gave itself up to the moment. Then she relaxed a little, still holding him, spent and satisfied. Panting and sated, loving his closeness. Strike adored her, not just because of this, but that because of her they could have this. Her presence had shaped his life, she encouraged him to make his life how he wanted. Plus, she drove him quite to distraction.

That rug was a good idea after all. 

Over the years, they’d made love like that numerous times, too many to count, but it never got old. As Strike looked down at her, her eyes opening up and giving him a tired smile of complete serene gratification, he wanted to do it all over again. Instead, they had kissed languorously for a few minutes, their bodies calming and minds returning to coherent thought.

Cormoran saw in the corner of the room a child’s trike and some toys in a box tidied. In fact, it was the only sign of anything childish in the whole room. The only mess now was their scattered chaos from their recent passion. Robin’s rose gold hair mingled with the grey fleece rug and her body felt so good and warm to hold. In truth, it was like she’d read his mind, though he hadn’t realised it due to his tiredness. That private interlude between them had been so wanted. Sex with her had always been a surprise. His eyes glanced quickly around the room, a throw would be good right now.

“Well... that was certainly what I was after.” Robin said as he pulled the throw off the sofa and covered them.  
“My pleasure.” He laughed, pulling her onto his chest. “You were rather insistent.”  
“I’ve actually surprised myself.”  
“Feel free to bring it up in the future.” He replied kissing her temple, “that look you gave me would have me doing this for hours if we had the time.”  
“That’s a nice thought.” She chuckled, “she’s at Nick and Ilsa’s.”

The previous evening, Robin had come home around 7ish. Strike had been laid on the sofa, watching the news. Sprawled on the large expanse of his chest, rosey cheeked and snoring slightly was a little girl. Her arms hung loosely, one dangling down the side of the sofa. 

One of Strike’s large paws rested on her back. Somewhat elfin in a way Robin had looked on photos from her being a similar age, there was no doubt she had Ellacott blood in her. Yet, she had dark hair like her father. Robin had carefully scooped up the sleeping four year old, who continued to snore somewhat as she carried her to bed. Upon descending the stairs again, Strike was putting two bags of crisps in the coat he now wore. With only a chance to give him a quick kiss and a brief chat about their day, he was out the door.

This was how it was, ships in the night 70% of the time. Though with friends who had a child of a similar age, it was made easier sharing a child minder. Rose Ellacott Strike had arrived unplanned in every sense, deemed a surprise and then arriving ten weeks premature. Robin’s presence at a NICU unit during this time, had led for Strike taking on his second female member of staff, Fiona. She was a retired police officer who had lost her husband ten months previous and wanted a return to work. 

When Robin’s waters had broken early, Strike had been in Bournemouth and with a delayed train had arrived in time but was greeted by Shanker. Robin as it turned out, had prayed to any deity listening that Shanker would not be her birth partner for the full duration but had been comforted by him at a frightening time. Indeed, Shanker had uncharacteristically remained outside until Rose arrived and even hugged Strike when he was told the news.   
“Well done Bunsen!” Shanker had unsentimentally promised to remember every birthday and Christmas. “I hope it doesn’t feel like your favourite pub has been burnt down.”

Robin was aware from the start that a child had not been on their radar, nor was it ideal with the sort of job they did. Therefore, she had worked tirelessly to ensure the addition of Rose would not be to Strike’s detriment. But, Strike, though fatherhood had not been anywhere on his priority list, matched her in every way as a parent. The little girl had been a shell shock to both and a constant factor to consider, but very well loved and between them, though it was tricky, they’d made it work. It had not brought about a personality transplant in Strike, he struggled as a parent and as a partner, his liberty somewhat impaired. But he knew early on that these knew found circumstances brought a strange liberation of their own and with Robin, a child was not a weapon to hold over him. 

So whilst looking down at his daughter who was on a ventilator, he gave himself up to the new rush of sensations both good and bad. In truth, now when he looked at Robin, he saw all the more how rich yet complicated she had made his life. Yet he was the better for it and he loved the bones of her. She juggled and struggled but she was happy, her resourcefulness and kindness making her so strong.

All these things came to him as they laid on the rug and with Robin’s 36th birthday coming up, he decided that a weekend away for them both, but most of all her, would be a good idea.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for kudos and feedback. You’re a lovely bunch and it’s really appreciated!

Strike’s first awareness was the feel of a light indentation on the mattress. He was only semi awake, still groggy from a late night. The small frame started to clamber over his side, his daughter unfazed that her father was sleeping and facing away from her. Small as she was, she struggled to conquer his large frame, but it didn’t stop her persevering. In truth, Cormoran imagined he’d have more bruises of her failed clamberings than if she managed to swiftly catapult herself over him. Robin he knew had already got up and was likely down stairs making his little fiend’s breakfast. 

He noted to Robin that Rose was a little fiend, a term of endearment. Tenacious and clever though not very often naughty, Robin drew a line there. Rose’s sighing struggles to climb onto him were become frustrated so she half flopped over him, her hand accidentally grazing his ear. In an instant he turned and made a bear like growling noise, grabbing her quickly so that he didn’t catapult her off the bed. She squealed and giggled as he grabbed her before dropping herself on the warm expanse of his chest as always. She was a wriggler mind, Strike never understood why kids couldn’t keep still. Some strands of Rose’s dark hair stuck out from the now ruffled plait and her eyes were still tinged with sleep.

“Good morning.” He said to Rose and was greeted with a very wet kiss on his cheek.  
“Hello.” She replied, burrowing herself further into his warmth. He was the favourite for these types of cuddles. He often consoled Robin it was only because he was chunkier than she was. As soon as Rose was ill, anxious or upset, she was all for Robin. 

From the first moment he’d been able to hold her, still with tubes supporting her breathing, he’d been awed. Strike didn’t like children and he was certainly terrified of Rose, so tiny and vulnerable as she looked in the NICU unit. At first, she was barely the size of one of his giant hands, he worried he would lose her amongst the hulking mass of himself. It reminded him of being in the hospital with Jack, only this was even more acute. Rose was his, his and Robin’s and the terrifying thing to him was not making the world a good place for her. No, it was the conflict of him being the best for her. Never had he been reminded so if his own inadequacies, but then in that instant, a hand touched his arm. Looking sideways, he saw Robin’s teary eyes. At first he’d thought she was sad, their daughter frail as she was back then, but then he saw how proud she was. Somehow in that look, he knew at least he’d do the best he was able.

“Daddy?”  
“Yes.”  
“You have very hairy arms.” Rose noted.  
“You have a very hairy head.”  
“I need my hair so I don’t get cold.”  
“That’s why I have hairy arms.” He replied. A pause ensued, though it was very short.  
“Daddy?”  
“Yes?”  
“Did you make my hair black or mummy?”  
“You decided when you were growing. In fact you said to yourself how important it was to look like me...”  
The latter part of the rueful sentence was for Robin’s amusement who had just entered with a tray.  
“I look like mummy.”  
“That’s very lucky for you!”  
“Sit up please Rose, I’ve got breakfast.”

The smell of bacon filled the air, Robin was a godsend on a weekend day off, always a bacon sarnie. Rose roughly rolled off Strike, half face planting the mattress gracelessly before pulling herself up. Politely and carefully she took her plastic plate and started eating. Robin held out a coffee to Strike as he too sat up, casually noting it was 7.13am. Kids had no concept of time.

“Morning.” Robin said, leaning over and giving him a kiss, taking care not to squash Rose in the process. Then she passed him his own sandwich and he twinned his daughter in hungry silence as he munched. Rose got a faraway look when she ate her breakfast, both her parents could see the still sleepy cogs in her mind cranking up for the day.

“A rare day off!” Robin exclaimed, “all of us!”  
“I do need just an hour this morning if that’s okay, after that, I’m all yours.” Strike explained but Robin smiled.  
“Only an hour mind.” She replied. “There’s no dance class today so you don’t need to avoid it.”  
“That’s just a bonus then.”

For a long while, the domesticity never fully sat right with him. He hadn’t disliked it, but his ways set as they were thawed slowly. He was hardly hard as rock, but Robin’s affection ran stability and deeper into the cracks she created like water. In a way, with her help, he’d reshaped himself. He was certainly a few pounds lighter, but Robin wasn’t a jailer, she threw a bacon sandwich his way when he needed it.

That hour was spent secluded in the spare room that doubled as an office. Robin and Rose were outside in the garden. Strike knew it was safe now to ring Linda and finalise plans for Robin’s birthday. As he discussed with his ‘mother in law’ he watch Robin hang out the washing. She was very economical with pegs, using one to pin two pieces on the line so they likened a paper chain. Rose scurried about the small lawn pulling out weeds, a job she enjoyed doing, though she practically scalped any nearby grass too.

For a large part of the week, they’d continued to be ships in the night. Since that interlude on their lounge floor, he’d hardly had a chance to get near her. Though they had had a brief moment yesterday afternoon where upon seeing her look so lovely, he had pressed her up against their kitchen wall and kissed her passionately some minutes. Robin could feel him against her, unmistaken in the fact of how much he wanted her whenever there was chance. The feeling was mutual, she flushed all over and heat pooled in that well known way. Then, thoroughly disarming himself by his actions, Strike had to remind her that Rose was due to be picked up by him from the childminders.

With the plans agreed with Linda and other items confirmed via email. Strike called Barclay and Fiona who were covering them on this rare Saturday together. Everything seemed in order, though one client was proving elusive with payment. But that could be taken care of tomorrow. 

Strike opened up his locked drawer of the desk and extract the small box within. He knew Robin wouldn’t find it buried in the bottom of a Jack Daniel’s fudge box, but he couldn’t be too careful. It was still as he’d left it, a mark of something they’d both agreed in the past wasn't necessary. He’d never saw himself marrying after ending his engagement with Charlotte and Robin certainly was no fan of the institution. But somehow, with her laid on his chest, both naked and sated on the rug, he realised how proud he would be to call her his wife. 

Partner was their time both professionally and personally at the moment. But... that needed to change. Strike needed her to know that no matter about anything else, she was his world and he was so attached to that that nothing in his power would come between them. 

Long ago, she had helped him back to his room after he’d twisted his knee. She’d looked at him, disarmed him a d thoroughly liberated him with her large eyes. Inviting her in, she’d passionately broken down every barrier and taken his breath away. Now, all these years later, she still could and likely always would.

Popping open the box he looked down at the white gold band with its clear cut diamonds twinkling. Subtle but striking, just like Robin, beautiful and heart stopping. Loving her was the most wonderful mixture of pain and pleasure he’d ever known. 

Strike had had a hard time explaining where that money had gone, but that was the beauty of having Shanker in their life. He rarely did favours for free so it was a good cover story. It was happening, he was going to ask Robin to marry him.


End file.
